Once Upon a Time
by Dannyblue
Summary: This just isn't Cordelia Chase's night.
1. Default Chapter

**TITLE:** Once Upon a Time (1/4)  
**AUTHOR:** Dannyblue  
**E-MAIL:** dannyblue2@yahoo.com   
**SUMMARY:** This just isn't Cordelia Chase's night.  
**SPOILERS:** Story takes place in season 2 of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, after Angel loses his soul.  
**RATING:** PG  
**PAIRING:** Angelus/Cordelia implied.  
**FEEDBACK:** Yes, please.  
**DISTRIBUTION:** Nothing Fancy, of course. Anybody else, all you have to do is ask.  
**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own _Angel_, _Buffy, the Vampire Slayer_, or any of the characters in the Jossverse.  
  
  
  
**Part One: A Late Date**  
  
  
Cordelia Chase glared at her watch. It was 9 o'clock. Which meant Xander was an hour late.  
  
An _hour_!  
  
"I don't believe this," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm being stood up by a _loser_."  
  
Cordy sat stiff in her seat, arms folded tight across her chest. Refusing to pout—that was Cry-Buffy's department—her furious, hazel gaze scoured the room. It was a Friday night, so the Bronze was packed. But Queen C could tell there was no-one there worth her time.  
  
"They're all at Roxeanne Ryan's party," she muttered. As one of Sunnydale High's elite, _she'd_ been invited…of course. But there was a catch. She could _not_, under any circumstances, bring Xander.  
  
So Cordy decided not to go. For one thing, she had this strange, alien urge not to hurt Xander's feelings by going to a party he wasn't "cool enough" for. Where this urge came from, she had no idea. She just hoped it didn't get out of hand.   
  
And, more importantly, there was no _way_ Roxeanne Ryan was telling Cordelia Chase what to do. This way, instead of looking desperate enough to ditch her boyfriend to go to the party, it looked like the party was so _not_ worth her time, she was willing to blow it off.  
  
"And wouldn't you know it," she groused. "I miss out on the social event of the month for him, and he doesn't even show up!"  
  
Her only consolation was that the rest of the so-called Scooby Gang hadn't shown up either. Buffy, Willow and Oz had decided to meet at the Bronze at eight…which Cordy made sure to bitch about. She was trying to teach Xander that hanging with his friends didn't qualify as a date. And, no, in her car at the Lookout didn't count either.  
  
Still, the fact that none of the others were there either could only mean one thing.  
  
"They're off fighting some giant slime demon," she muttered. "Or stopping a virgin sacrifice."  
  
Their latest Scooby adventure must've started when she was at the hair salon. And, of course, she'd been left out again. Not that she actually minded. When the choices were a deep-conditioning via scalp massage delivered by a gorgeous—although gay—guy with a killer body, or tracking down a hungry, two-headed hell beast…  
  
Well, there was no contest.  
  
Cordy sighed. There was no use waiting. Xander wasn't showing tonight. So, she'd have to wait until tomorrow to start making his life miserable.  
  
"And I might as well swing by Roxeanne's," she decided. "Principles are great and all, but why waste a Friday night?"  
  
Standing, she swung her purse strap over her shoulder.  
  
"Leaving so soon?" a familiar voice asked from behind her.  
  
Cordelia froze. An icy shiver raced up her spine, then made a quick return trip back down. Her heart dropped, like a tight rope walker's, whose rope had just snapped.  
  
A situation that would be preferable to this one.  
  
"You've done something with your hair," the voice continued, sounding as friendly as friendly could be. "It looks nice. Smells nice, too. I like it."  
  
Cordy just managed to contain a whimper. Along with the blinding terror, she felt another, unpleasant sensation. It took a moment to realize it was oxygen deprivation. It seemed she'd stopped breathing, and was now in serious need of air.  
  
Cordy took a deep, shuddering breath. "Angel?" she whispered, and hoped she was wrong. Couldn't the person behind her be a completely normal—and not dead—guy who _sounded_ like Angel? Was that too much to ask?  
  
"Cordelia?" the voice mocked. And Mr. Tall, Dark and Deadly walked around in front of her.  
  
Seeing him in the flesh upped her panic level. That cute but predatory smile of his wasn't big on the soothing either.  
  
"Cordelia, Cordelia," he tsked. Casually, he eyed her up and down. And seemed quite pleased when she shivered. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" His smirk turned into a full-blown grin. "All alone."  
  
Cordy let out a shaky sigh. Closing her eyes, she thought, with a touch of fatalistic humor, _This__ just isn't my night._  
  
  
  
  
(TO BE CONTINUED) 


	2. Chapter 2: Friendly Conversation

**Part Two: Friendly Conversation**  
  
  
  
Cordelia feverishly prayed that she'd been dreaming. That the last minute and a half was a figment of her imagination. She'd never had a hallucination before, but there was always a first time, right?  
  
Slowly, she opened her eyes.  
  
Nope. He was still there.   
  
"Are you okay?" Angel asked, sounding almost worried. Head tilted to one side, he studied her face. "You look a little…pale."  
  
Under normal circumstances, Cordy would have made the appropriate, snappy comeback. Something like, 'Well, that's the Niles Miller calling the Tritori last season.'   
  
But her well-honed, snappy comment skills were beyond her at the moment. Instead, she was busy thinking of all the terrible things Angel had done since he and Buffy did the nasty. And he was here. Now. With her.   
  
Without giving it much thought, Cordelia sat. Luckily, the chair was there, or she would have had an embarrassing moment. As it was, her butt hit the seat with an inelegant thump, and the impact gave her teeth a good rattle.  
  
Angel's puzzled frown almost seemed sincere. "I thought you were calling it a night."   
  
Yeah, right. She was going to leave the Bronze—where, thanks to the witnesses, she was less likely to be brutally slaughtered—and go strolling outside all alone _now_. Hey, why not score really high on the stupid meter and ask the homicidal vampire to walk her to her car.  
  
And, on the way, she'd stop at the bathroom to write MAIN COURSE on her forehead in passion pink lipstick.  
  
Of course, these weren't thoughts she wanted to share. So, instead, she said, "Actually, I was going to the bar for a cappuccino. But I changed my mind."  
  
"Oh," Angel said, as if he actually believed her. He nodded at the chair across from her. "Do you mind?"  
  
Before she could answer, he pulled out the chair and sat down.  
  
Terrified or not, she couldn't help being a little annoyed by his presumptuous. It was the kind of stunt guys she wouldn't give the time of day pulled on her all the time. Lips twisting into a frown, she grumbled, "Be my guest," under her breath.  
  
But, Angel—with the freakishly acute vampy hearing she'd forgotten all about—heard her. Crossing his arms atop the table, he gave her a knowing grin. "So, how's your night been so far? Having a good time?"  
  
For some reason, his friendly, polite tone made her heart leap in her chest. She could actually feel the pulse in her neck throbbing.   
  
And Angel could see it, if his gaze dropping to her throat was any indication. Which made the vein throb even harder.  
  
He seemed extremely satisfied by her reaction. His pleasant smile turned smug. His onyx eyes seemed to glow.  
  
It was the fear. Whether Giles believed or not, she _did_ pay attention to his boring lectures. So she knew vampires loved fear. They could sense it. Smell it. Taste it in their victim's blood.  
  
_And there isn't enough 'ewww' in the world!_  
  
From what she'd heard, Angel appreciated fear even more than the average vamp. And, without lifting a finger, he'd gotten some pretty choice panic from _her_ in less than five minutes.  
  
Cordy took a deep breath and tried to sound calm. "You know, you should probably make yourself scarce before Buffy gets here. I know she's wimped out on killing you before. But after all the crap you've pulled, I think she's finally pissed enough to…"  
  
"You know she's not coming," Angel interrupted. "And so do I."  
  
Cordelia gave him a startled look.   
  
"I overheard you talking to yourself," the vampire explained. "Xander stood you up, and you think he's with Buffy and the gang killing something without you."   
  
As she realized how long Angel must have been there, watching and listening without her even knowing, the blood drained from her face. If she wasn't creeped out before, she was now.  
  
_That's right, Cor. Chat amiably to no-one for half an hour, like an escapee from the snake pit, and let the sadistic bloodsucker know you are truly alone, with little chance anyone will be riding to your rescue._  
  
Angel shook his head sympathetically. "Oh, I know how you feel. I've been waiting for Buffy for an hour myself. When she didn't show…Well you can imagine my disappointment. I had our whole evening laid out."  
  
"What? Dinner and a maiming?"  
  
Cordelia's eyes widened. The words had popped, unbidden, from her mouth. Of course, that was how she always did things. But antagonizing Angel wasn't her top priority at the moment. Living to see daylight again was.  
  
Fortunately, Angel didn't seem annoyed. In fact, he chuckled a little. "Something like that." The vampire leaned back in his seat. "But, now, I have to find other ways to occupy my time."  
  
Cordelia swallowed. Well, _gulped_, actually. She hoped her brutal murder wasn't on his TO DO list.  
  
Angel seemed to read her mind. "Oh, I'm not going to kill you," he said amiably. "Not tonight, anyway. After all, there wouldn't be much point to it."  
  
"Oh?" Cordy said, sounding way too chipper. Realizing her hands were engaged in a nervous wrestling match on top of the table, she put them in her lap. "Well, that's…good?"  
  
"For you?" He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, if you were someone Buffy didn't know, I might suck you dry and dump you in the alley. A guy's gotta eat, right?"   
  
Since he paused, as if waiting for some kind of response, Cordy nodded dumbly.  
  
"But," he continued, "for someone like you, who knows what she is and helps on her little Scooby missions, I figure killing you in front of Buffy would have more impact. You know, snapping your neck right in front of her, and there isn't a thing she can do about it. That's gotta be worth a few guilt points. Whadda ya think?"  
  
_I think I'm going to be sick,_ Cordy thought, swallowing her nausea. The way he sounded, he could've been talking about the weather. Sports. That documentary on the Discovery Channel.  
  
Not how or when it would be best to kill her.  
  
Cordelia felt herself turn pale, which so wasn't a good look for her. She thought about pulling out her compact, just to see what the trauma was doing to her look. But she decided against it.  
  
Angel frowned thoughtfully. "Of course, killing you wouldn't have as much effect as killing Giles, or Willow, or Xander. Yeah, their little 'gang'"—he made finger quotes—"would be upset for a few days. But I'd imagine they'd get over it pretty fast."  
  
Cordy frowned. What the hell was he talking about?  
  
"I mean, let's face it," Angel continued. "You're as much of an outsider as I was."  
  
Cordy's back stiffened. Her head flew up, her chin set at a proud angle. "I am _never_ an outsider."   
  
"Oh, sure you are," the vampire said, waving away her denial. "I'm betting even Oz, who's new, is a better fit than you or I ever were. Really, what do they need you for…besides convenient transportation? Your superior fighting skills? Research? Computer wizardry? Your ear-piercing scream?" Suggestively, his eyes grazed over her chest. "Great lungs, by the way."  
  
Silently, Cordy seethed. Teeth gritted, she glared at the object of her irritation. She reminded herself that this was Angel's thing. Mind games. He liked playing with people's heads. Finding their weaknesses…  
  
_Wait a minute! That is **not** a weakness. I don't give a crap how Buffy and the rest of the Loser Patrol sees me. I barely care what Xander thinks. So none of this trash Angel's talking means anything. Because it's not true. And, even if it is, I don't care!_  
  
Angel's head tilted inquisitively. "They didn't even bother to tell you what was up for tonight. Did they?"  
  
"You just love to hear yourself talk, doncha?" Cordy snapped. One part of her waved panicy arms in the classic 'shut up' signal, because being a smart-alec with a serial killer was never a smart choice. But another part just couldn't sit there and let him _try_ to dismantle her with a few well-chosen words. She'd been in way too many verbal throw-downs not to say something. "You just go on, and on, and…"  
  
"And not having you there probably eases Xander's mind," Angel continued, as if she'd never spoken. "He doesn't have to decide between protecting you, and fighting shoulder to shoulder with his beloved Slayer." Smirking, Angel leaned across the table. "What a dilemma, huh? A young man in love with two women. Torn between the one he can never have, and the one who's all too willing to spread…"  
  
"Shut up!" Cordelia hissed. Breathing a little more harsh than normal, she rose to her feet. "Shut your big, undead, annoying…"  
  
"So, you're leaving now?" Angel asked amiably. Slowly, he stood. "Let me walk you out. You know, this town really isn't safe after dark. It would be my pleasure to…protect you."  
  
Cordy's stomach clenched. Taking a deep, calming breath, she tried to get her emotions under control. So, this was why the others looked so shaken after they confronted him. It wasn't just the physical threat he represented. It was the way he used words, like weapons as sharp as any stake, or knife, or sword.   
  
Cordelia's hands balled into fists. She'd never had to deal with Evil Angel face-to-face before. He'd always focused his attentions elsewhere.   
  
Well, she wasn't loving this first-hand experience. Nope. Not loving her late-night chat with the psychological sadist.  
  
Cordy jumped when one long arm reached across the small table. Her flesh crawled when one cool hand rested on her bare shoulder.  
  
"Sit," Angel said. And while the amusement was still there on his face, something dark slithered behind his black eyes.  
  
Swallowing hard, Cordelia let herself be pushed back into her seat. Despite the warmth of the room, she shivered. Cold terror would do that to a person.  
  
Casually, Angel retook the chair across from her. "As I was saying," he continued smoothly. "You're safe with me."  
  
_Yeah,_ Cordy thought, giving in to the urge to roll her eyes. _And there's a pig taking off out of LAX every hour._  
  
"Don't get me wrong." Suddenly, he laid a hand on top of hers, making her yelp just a little. "You definitely look…tasty. New dress?"  
  
Grimacing, Cordy tried to pull her hand out from under his. But he held hers in place with little effort.  
  
"Anyway, someone made me an offer I couldn't refuse." And the vampire looked over Cordy's shoulder.  
  
Frowning, Cordy glanced back.  
  
There was a girl coming from the hallway that lead to the bathrooms. A pretty, perky girl with blond hair.  
  
Cordy groaned. _Well, doesn't **she** look familiar._  
  
The girl's eyes roamed the Bronze, and finally settled on their table. It seemed she was looking for Angel because, when she saw him, her eyes lit up.  
  
Then, she saw Cordelia. And their joined hands resting on the table. And her smile wavered uncertainly.   
  
"That's Tracy," Angel explained. "She's a sophomore at UC Sunnydale. Pretty, isn't she?"  
  
As Cordy watched, the girl made an all-too-familiar transformation. Uncertainty turned into smug determination. She wasn't going to let the fact that Angel was with someone else stop her.  
  
Cordy knew that transformation well. She'd gone through it herself a million times. Hell, she remembered doing it back in the day, when she was still stupid enough to have a thing for Angel, and he only had eyes for Little Miss Slay Happy. Tracy definitely had the 'she might have him now, but she won't when I'm through' vibe going on.  
  
Cordy was brought back to the present when Angel's thumb started to slowly caress the back of her hand. Flinching, she again tried to take her hand back. And, again, she failed.  
  
"I like hunting for prey," Angel mused. "But when a meal just throws themselves on the chopping block…"  
  
Filled with donning horror, Cordelia stared at him. No. He couldn't mean…  
  
Giving her hand a pat, he stood up. "Gotta run. I hate to keep a lady waiting."  
  
"No!" Cordy blurted out. "You can't!" She almost choked on the words. It was one thing to know Angel was a killer. But to see it, live and in person, to know what was about to happen, was a whole other story. "Don't…"  
  
Angel looked down at her. His eyes glittered like black ice. "It's either her," he drawled, "or you."  
  
Cordelia clamped her mouth shut. What was she supposed to say to that?  
  
_Then take me! Viciously murder **me** instead of the girl I've never met who I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like anyway!_  
  
Yeah, right!  
  
Straightening his coat, Angel smiled. "It's been fun." As he walked past her, his hand briefly rested on her arm. "We have to do it again sometime."   
  
  
  
(TO BE CONTINUED)


	3. Chapter 3: Guilty Conscience

**Title:** Once Upon A Time (3/4)  
  
**Author:** Dannyblue  
  
  
  
**Part Three: Guilty Conscience**  
  
  
  
For one long moment, Cordy couldn't move. Absolutely could _not_ move. Even her heart had gone still.  
  
Then, relief flooded through her body.  
  
Cordy took a deep breath and let her head fall to the table. She was alive! No missing parts, open wounds, or head trauma. A few emotional bruises, maybe.  
  
What had Willow said that time?  
  
"Except for the whole evil thing, Angel would make a great psychologist. He just has a talent for finding a person's weak spots."  
  
Well, Angel had hit a little closer to home than Cordy liked to admit.   
  
Okay, so maybe she wasn't thrilled to be a fringe member of the Scooby Gang. The one they only called when someone needed her to drive them somewhere that wasn't good for her health.   
  
And maybe she wasn't blind to Xander's little crush on Buffy. But, since Cordy expected to get over him any minute now, she tried not to let it get to her.   
  
Suddenly, Cordelia heard an annoying laugh—way too loud and chirpy—coming from behind her. She was pretty sure the laugh came from Tracy, Angel's latest intended.  
  
Cordy sat up straight in her chair. She almost turned around but didn't. It would be like watching an inmate take that last walk down death row…while making puppy-dog eyes at the executioner.   
  
"And here comes the guilt," she grumbled. Frowning, she started to pick at the polish on one perfectly manicured thumbnail.  
  
Well, it wasn't like she could _do_ anything, right? She was better than Buffy at a lot of things, but fighting wasn't one of them. And calling the police wouldn't help because, in Sunnydale, it never helped.  
  
Angel was probably taking Tracy out the back way right now, into the infamous alley. That would give him the privacy he needed to…do what he was about to do. And, thanks to the driving dance music that filled the club, no-one in the building would hear the screams.  
  
"I'm not risking my life to save a stranger," Cordy insisted. "Especially one who thought Angel and I had a thing and had no problem deciding to steal him away from me. And that's it." She nodded her head decisively.  
  
But logic didn't help. Not _even_. Because, logically, she knew there was no way she was responsible for Tracy's impending doom.   
  
But she felt like she was.  
  
Cordy sat still for another moment. Teeth clenched, she glared at the table, shaking her head slowly from side to side.  
  
"Dammit!" Slamming her hand on the tabletop, she pushed herself to her feet. She kicked the chair out of her way and slung her purse strap over her shoulder. "I've been hanging with the monster patrol _way_ too long."  
  
Cordy marched through the crowd, ignoring the indignant gasps of the people she happened to bump into. A few started to make a fuss. But a well-placed glare was enough to make them keep their mouths shut.  
  
Feet stomping like a petulant child who'd been sent to her room, Cordelia stepped into the grim, poorly-lit hallway. She stomped past the bathrooms, past the pay 'phones. She stomped up to the back entrance, and put one hand on the bar that would open the door.  
  
And she froze.  
  
It was like her body had just realized—really realized—what she was about to do, and a shudder worked it's way from the top of her head to her toes. Then, thanks to adrenaline or whatever, she just went numb.  
  
"I can work with numb," she muttered. "Numb is good."  
  
With ease, Cordy pulled that numbness inside herself. It was a practiced skill. A person didn't rule the shark-infested waters of Sunnydale High—where your closest 'friends' would attack at the first sign of weakness if it meant she could take your place—without learning how to cloak their emotions.   
  
Cordy reached into her purse and pulled out the items that, along with her credit cards, she never left home without. Then she used her hip, she opened the door.  
  
And promptly heard a scream.  
  
"I'm not crazy," Cordy whispered. "I'm not crazy. I'm not…Who am I kidding? I'm whacked out of my mind."  
  
Shaking her head, Cordy walked out into the alley. Followed the screams to the dead end.  
  
Angel was there, in full, ferocious vamp-face.   
  
Tracy, who'd been so happy to see him earlier, looked petrified. She stood, still as a statue, in Angel's grip. And the screams had stopped, probably frozen in her throat.  
  
Holding her by the shoulders, Angel gave her a little shake. "You know, Tracy, you're making this _way_ too easy. I like a little fight in my food. A little struggle. Something."  
  
He waited for a second, as if giving her a chance to fight back. When she didn't, he just shrugged. "Oh, well…" He grabbed a handful of hair and violently yanked her head back, eliciting a strangled gasp from his victim. Fangs bared, he lowered his mouth to her throat.  
  
Hands on her hips, Cordy loudly cleared her throat.   
  
Angel's head snapped up. He stared at her with startled, amber eyes.  
  
"Am I interrupting something?" Cordelia asked.  
  
Frowning, Angel straightened up. "As a matter of fact, you are?"  
  
"Too bad." She held up the thick, wooden cross she always kept in her purse. "You know, for a guy raised in a more courtly age, you sure don't know how to treat women. I mean, first you abandon me in the middle of our conversation. Now this?" She shook her head woefully.  
  
Angel studied her for one long, perplexed moment. Then, a smile quirked his lips. "Jealous?"  
  
"Pffft!" She gave him the contemptuous look she usually reserved for Xander. "As if!"  
  
Looking curious, Angel stepped behind Tracy, one hand wrapped securely around her throat. The college sophomore, obviously in shock, stared blankly at Cordelia.  
  
"So," the vampire said, his smile widening. "What is this?"  
  
"Me stopping _you_, I guess." Sighing, Cordy shrugged. "I mean, I might not be Miss Chosen One, pointy stick expert and fly-kicker extraordinaire. But I've got…"  
  
"What?" He gave the cross a dismissive glance. "That?"  
  
"Well, yeah. And this." She held up an expensive perfume bottle. "It's called Eu De Holy Water. Ever heard of it?"  
  
Angel's gave the bottle a leery glance, but still didn't look as worried as she might have hoped.   
  
"You think that would stop me from killing you?" he asked. Pausing, he ran his tongue across his fangs, the gesture ending in a grin. "Ripping out your throat would make me forget all about the blisters."  
  
Tracy whimpered.  
  
Cordy's heart leaped in her chest, but she promptly told it to keep still and stay quiet. Angel had gotten all the fear he was _going_ to get out of her tonight.  
  
"You _could_ kill me. That _is_ your…_thing_." She made the word sound as insulting as possible. "But I'm much more valuable to you alive."  
  
This really seemed to tickle Angel, because he chuckled. "And how is that?"  
  
"Because I have a story to tell. All about how you lured an innocent young thing—a dead-ringer for the Slayer, by the way—out of the Bronze. Of course, I was _terrified_. What could little old me do against Big Bad you? But I followed, at a safe distance. As I reached the exit, I heard these terrible screams—shrieks, really. Like a cat being skinned alive. After I was sure you were gone, I came out to check the damage. And I found blood, and organs, and body parts"—she waved the perfume bottle and cross around the moonlit alleyway—"_everywhere_."  
  
Tracy whimpered again, which was really starting to get on Cordelia's nerves.  
  
Angel grinned. "I like that story."  
  
"Oh, it'll be much better by the time I tell it to Buffy tomorrow. This is just a rough sketch. You know, a first draft." Cross still held up in front of her, she walked towards him. "We all know Buffy blames herself for everyone you kill. I mean, it's bad enough hearing dry police reports and stuff. Along with your little gifts, like that Teresa chick. But an eye-witness account, given as only someone who was there to experience the horror first hand can give it? That'll really tear her apart." She stopped a few feet away. "That _is_ what you want, right? To make Buffy miserable."  
  
"Pretty much," Angel agreed. Then, eyes narrowed, he studied Cordy, eyes slowly traveling from her head down. "You're not afraid anymore."  
  
Cordy shrugged. "I got over it. I mean, you might be able to play with the Slayer's emotions like tinker toys. But I'm not Cry Buffy."  
  
The vampire considered this in silence before nodding. "So, in exchange for telling this story to Buffy, you want me to…"  
  
"Let Tracy go. If killing me is pointless, killing her"—another whimper from Tracy"—would be uber pointless. I mean, why bother?"  
  
"Because I'm hungry?"  
  
The quelling glare she gave him made him smirk. "Let Tracy go and, by the time I'm done with Buffy, she'll need Prozac to crack a smile."  
  
Silence filled the alleyway as Angel thought it over. Finally, he shook his head. "That is the _worst_ bargain anyone has every tried to strike with me. But I guess you deserve points for every." He gave Tracy a disappointed look. "Besides, this one wasn't turning out to be all that satisfying anyway."  
  
Releasing Tracy, Angel put his hand on her back and gave her a little push. The girl stumbled forward into Cordelia, who had to grab her arms to keep them both from falling.  
  
"Wh-what…?" the girl stammered, clinging to Cordy's arm with both hands. "Wh-who…?"  
  
"Let go!" Cordy said, wincing as Tracy's desperate fingernails dug into her skin. She snatched her arm out of the girl's grasp. "Geez! Clutch much!"  
  
Rolling her eyes, she turned to face the vampire.   
  
Only to find he wasn't there anymore. At least, not that she could see.  
  
Cordy gulped. "Uh oh."  
  
  
(TO BE CONTINUED) 


	4. Chapter 4: Calling It a Night

**Part Four: Calling It a Night**  
  
  
  
Cross held in front of her like a shield, Cordelia studied the alley with narrowed eyes. Now this was just creepy. It was bad enough facing an evil, heartless creature of the night all on her own. But knowing he was probably still there, you just couldn't see him, was ten times worse.  
  
"C'mon," Cordy said, eyes still darting back and forth. Slipping her perfume sprayer back into her purse, she grabbed Tracy's arm. "And the next time you decide to pick up a tall, gorgeous stranger…don't!"  
  
Cordelia dragged the shell-shocked coed towards the Bronze's exit. Feeling the first stirrings of relief, she gave the door a push. Once they were inside, everything would be…  
  
"Oh, of course," Cordy grumbled, because the door didn't budge. It seemed to have locked behind her. "So, it's the hard way."  
  
The trip down the long, dark alleyway was nerve wracking. And it was made worse when Tracy started shaking and blubbering about halfway.  
  
Ignoring her, Cordy let her wary eyes dart around the alley. She didn't trust Angel's decision to let them go. It had been too fast. Too easy. Which was why she was pretty sure he was still there somewhere. Watching.  
  
That thought sent a permanent shiver racing down her back. It would be so easy to panic about now. But, if Angel _was_ watching, that was probably just what he was waiting for. For her to show even a hint of weakness or fear.   
  
_Please,_ Cordy thought. _I'm dating Xander Harris out in the open. If I can walk into the Bronze with him on my arm and my head held high, I can do this._  
  
When they reached the front of the Bronze, she felt a tiny smidge of relief. There were plenty of people coming and going, milling around the entrance. But she wasn't quite buying that illusion of safety. Yeah, she still didn't think Angel would kill her in a crowded place. But being in a house the vampire hadn't been invited into would make her feel much better.   
  
So, instead of heading for the entrance, she steered Tracy towards her car.  
  
"Wait!" the girl exclaimed, coming out of her shock long enough to realize they weren't going where all the people were. "We have to g-get h-help."  
  
"Pfft!" Cordy rolled her eyes. "You won't find any help in there. Besides, we both want to be as far away from here as possible. _Believe_ me."  
  
Once she had Tracy bundled up in the passenger seat of her speedy red roadster, Cordy drove away from the Bronze.  
  
"Okay," she sighed, glancing at the other girl. "Where do you live?"  
  
Her only answer was more weeping.  
  
Shaking her head, Cordy rolled her eyes. She knew that realizing vampires were real could be mind shattering and all that. And she couldn't expect everyone to handle finding out the truth with the same grace and aplomb as she had. But Tracy was starting to get on her nerves.  
  
"Get over it!" Cordy finally snapped. "And give me your address!"  
  
After a little more coaxing—well, _badgering_, if you wanted to get technical—Tracy blurted out the name of a street.  
  
By the time Cordelia deposited her on her front porch, she was tired of the whole 'rescuer' thing. And she sure wasn't in the mood to deliver one of those grave, cautionary speeches Giles specialized in.   
  
_There__ are dark forces all around us. Dangers you must protect yourself from…_  
  
Cordy snorted. That wasn't her style. But, since she'd gone to so much trouble to save the girl, she had to say something.  
  
"So, you know that was a vampire, right?"  
  
Tracy started to shake even harder, if that was possible. "N-no. V-vampires aren't real. They aren't real!" And, by morning, she might even believe that was true.  
  
"Whatever," Cordy sighed. "But, once the sun goes down, you'd be smart not to invite any strangers into your house. Especially if they're really pale. Or seem really interested in your neck. Got it?"  
  
Once Tracy was safely inside, Cordelia got back into her car and drove home. As she pulled into her driveway, she marveled at how calm she still was. Calm but tired. It was amazing how tired confronting a brutal killer could make a girl.  
  
Holding up the garage door opener, she pressed the button.  
  
…And nothing happened.  
  
"Oh, crap!" she exclaimed, pressing the button again and again. "Don't do this to me!"  
  
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.  
  
"The batteries! Damn!" Disgusted, she tossed the remote on the passenger seat. How could the stupid thing run out of batteries? That _never_ happened.   
  
Hands wrapped around the steering wheel, Cordy glanced around the security-light illuminated yard of her secluded home. Since learning Sunnydale was The Creature Capital of California, she tried not to go outside—actually _outside_ outside—after dark alone. And, after the night she'd just had, it was a rule she didn't want to break now.  
  
Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the cell 'phone. The housekeeper was probably asleep by now. But she wouldn't mind getting out of her warm, comfortable bed to open the garage door manually.  
  
Riiiight.  
  
She was just about to dial when there was a knock on the driver's-side window. With a startled shriek, Cordelia spun around.  
  
"Geez, Angel!" she exclaimed. "You scared me!"  
  
Lips quirked in the hint of a smile, the vampire shrugged. "It's what I do best."  
  
As Cordy stared at Angel, she remembered one important detail. He didn't need an invitation to get into her car. Not unless she was living in it. Which, with him outside, sounded like a great idea. But…  
  
Taking a deep breath, Cordy stiffened her spine. Glaring at him, she said, "You need another hobby," her voice classic Queen C. With a haughty toss of her hair, she opened the car door. "What are you doing here, anyway?"  
  
"Making sure you got home safely," Angel had the nerve to say. He stepped back enough for her to get out of the car. "Isn't that what a man born in a more courtly age should do?"  
  
Rolling her eyes, Cordy walked past him. She had this nearly overwhelming urge to break into a run, but that would undermine the effect she was trying to create. Instead, she walked at a more leisurely pace.  
  
Seeming thoughtful, Angel followed behind her. And Cordy knew what they meant when they said someone had presence. Angel wasn't touching her, but she could almost feel the weight of his body on her back.  
  
"I don't smell any fear on you," he finally said.  
  
"Now _that's_ charming," Cordy scoffed, walking up onto the porch.  
  
"You should be afraid," he insisted. He sounded really puzzled. "I could kill you in an instant."  
  
"Oooh, more charm. No wonder you turn all the girls' heads."  
  
The vampire let out a startled chuckle. "Funny."  
  
"I do try." Keys in hand, she turned towards the door. And nearly jumped out of her skin when he took her wrist.  
  
Cordy froze. His hand was like a manacle made of ice, wrapped around her wrist. Holding her breath, Cordy stared at him, hazel gaze searching the endless depths of his midnight eyes. This was it, wasn't it? Her luck had run out. It was his style, wasn't it? Let her think she'd pulled off the biggest bluff of her life. Let her get to her front door, a threshold away from safety. Then…  
  
"Let me," he said, taking the keys from her hand. When her mouth fell open in surprise, he smirked. "It's what a gentleman would do."  
  
Still holding her wrist with one hand, he unlocked the door with the other. Cordelia had to grit her teeth to keep from snatching away from his hold. But, since she was pretty sure that was what he expected, she wasn't going to do it.  
  
The picture of politeness, he finally released her arm. "There you are," he said, handing her the keys.  
  
"Thanks." Pushing open the door, she stepped into her house. Letting out a silent breath, she turned to face Angel. "And, no, I won't be telling Buffy the story I made up earlier."  
  
Angel's smile was cynical. "I didn't think you would."  
  
"Because I have an even better story to tell. A true one! All about how you spent the entire night _stalking_ me. How I spent hours in mortal terror, certain you'd snap me like a twig any minute…if I was lucky. And how none of it would have happened if she'd just _killed_ you when she had the chance! Or if the rest of the Loser Patrol hadn't stood me up!" Her eyes narrowed. "I'm going to make as many people as possible _pay_ for ruining my Friday night!"  
  
Silent, Angel studied her from the other side of the invisible barrier. Finally, an almost genuine smile quirked his lips. "You'd make a great vampire."  
  
Despite being shorter than he was, Cordy managed to look down her nose at the vampire. "Of course I would. I'm good at everything I do."  
  
With a smile the outdid his on the smug-o-meter, Cordy shut the door in his face.  
  
Safe in the foyer of her own home, Cordy collapsed against the door. Forehead pressed against the wood, she gasped for air, like ice water had been thrown in her face. Her heart thundered, slamming against her chest. She was suddenly so cold, her teeth chattered.  
  
As all the fear she'd been holding in crashed over her in a wave, the strength went out of her legs. Unable to stop herself, she slid down the door, and sat in an ungraceful heap on the floor.  
_____________________  
  
Fingertips pressed against the door, Angelus leaned close, until his ear was almost pressed against the wood. He could hear her heart pounding, so loud and strong he could almost feel it in his own chest. Could hear her panting, almost like she was in the throes of passion rather than terror.  
  
Angelus smiled. He'd known she was afraid. He'd tasted her panic when he sat at her table in the Bronze. Terror that potent didn't just disappear. No matter how good an act you put on, it was always there, surrounding you like tantalizing perfume.  
  
Except for with her. When she stepped out of the Bronze to save Tracy—sweet, boring, weak little Tracy—it was like her fear was gone. She stared him down. She scoffed and mocked. And she wasn't afraid. Somehow, in a matter of moments, she'd taken her panic and pushed it so deep, even he couldn't sense it.  
  
_What kind of strength does it take to control your emotions so completely?_ Angelus wondered. _How much would it take to break it?_  
  
In a good mood—despite the fact that he hadn't eaten all night—Angelus lowered himself to the porch, leaning back against the door. She was still there. He could almost feel her heat through the wood. Feel her body trembling against his back. He imagined she'd be there for a while, until she got control of herself.  
  
Sighing, a smile on his lips, Angelus looked up at the moon. There was nothing he liked better than finding a new toy.  
  
  
  
  
**THE END**


End file.
